


Untitled

by HurricaneScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneScully/pseuds/HurricaneScully
Summary: This is just a short little something that popped into my head an hour or so ago after watching Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose.  I hope it's come across the way I wanted :-/





	Untitled

She lay still, motionless. Her eyes closed against a bright light. She felt a moment of panic. What if she had been taken again? Whenever she thought of her abduction she could remember bright light. She tried to move but couldn't. Fear sliced through her.

Than she felt it. A presence that could only be Mulder. She didn't need her eyes to see him. She could *feel* him. As surely as a dying man could feel his last shuddering breaths.

The light dulled down but Scully kept her eyes closed. Her mind realised this could be a dream and she would do nothing to chase off her fantasy Mulder. She would never chase him away.

Then she felt finger tips moving over her face. So gently around her full mouth, dipping into her cupids bow. So sensual. She didn't move a muscle. She *couldn't* move, she remembered. But was that really a bad thing? It meant she could spend longer with this dream Mulder so she dreamily decided it didn't. 

"You're cold, honey." He said as he stroked over her perfectly plucked eyebrow's. "Here" He said and she felt a soft bit of material being placed over her, a coat. It smelled of Mulder. She wanted to arch like a cat into it, purring in contentment the whole time. She wasn't cold, not at all. In fact, she felt little temperature sensation at all, you never do in dreams. She was still glad of his coat either way. The smell was enough to make her dream one of the best, most realistic ones. 

His slightly calloused fingers trailed down her cheeks, through her hair, over her eyes as though admiring her. Never once catching or faltering. As his lips placed the most delicate of butterfly kisses on her eyelids she remembered exactly why she loved him, why she always would. Why he was the only man she longed for. His touch was enough for her very soul to become ignited. She was so torn between trying desperately to open her eyes, force herself to awaken and call his cell, beg for him to come over, to succumb to the inevitable, or should she stay right in the moment, in the dream, feeling so loved. 

"I love you, Scully. I'll be there soon, okay. Just wait for me, angel" She heard his voice whispering just before he placed a small chaste kiss on her lips. She went to kiss him but couldn't. She felt moisture fall on her cheek and realised it was one of Mulder's tears.

A door opened.

"She looks wonderful. You've done a nice job" Said Mulder's voice in a dead tone. He was no longer touching her.

"Thank you. I hope Mrs Scully would agree. It's very often too painful for a parent to come and see their child before burial so she's very lucky to have you Mr Mulder"

The coat was lifted off of her. The light turned off. Clyde bruckman was right. Death was lonely.


End file.
